


fucking magnets (how do they work)

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Magic, Summer Camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 12:30:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11275365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Bellamy's been a counselor at Camp Charmwood for six years, so by this point, having one of the campers accidentally curse him is basically old news. It happens all the time, and it always works out.But it's Clarke's first year here, and her first curse, and she literally can't stop touching him. So it's maybe understandable that she's annoyed about it.But really, it's notthatbad. All things considered.





	fucking magnets (how do they work)

As Bellamy thinks should be obvious, working as a counselor at a camp for magical kids is a pretty high-risk occupation. In his six years of counseling at Camp Charmwood, he's been hexed, cursed, turned into animals from every major vertebrate group, including a really unfortunate experience of being a fish out of water, petrified, and generally run through the wringer.

Some people might take this as a reason to not come back, but Bellamy kind of loves it. Not the unintentional magical abuse specifically, but he likes kids, likes being outside, and he does get some great stories about it.

But it's not for everyone, and he would have said, if anyone asked him, that it wasn't for Clarke Griffin.

Although, if he's honest, he knows that's not entirely fair. In a lot of ways, Clarke's good at the job. She took over running the arts and crafting cabin from Lincoln, and he'll admit that, by all accounts, she's good at that. He wouldn't call her naturally gifted with children, kind of awkward and overly serious, but she's figured out how to make it work for her. Her general stoicness makes them want to impress her, but since she actually likes them, it's not _hard_ for them to do it, so every single one seems to be proud of winning her over, and it's a vibe that works.

But she doesn't seem to like cabins, or being outside, or dealing with unexpected magic, and all of those are pretty much occupational hazards, if not active perks of the job. He honestly has no idea why anyone would decide to become a camp counselor if they didn't think spending a lot of time outside and living in the middle of nowhere was a good thing.

"I like being outside," she grumbles. Given she's spent this entire hike glaring, and the last five minutes swearing creatively, he's having trouble feeling persuaded.

"You know you're scowling at a branch right now, right?"

"It hit me in the face!" she snaps.

"None of this is convincing me you like being outside."

"I like outside. I don't like _hiking_ ," she says. "And don't tell me you're happy you're lost in the woods. I know you're Mr. Charmwood or whatever, but come on. You're not enjoying this."

"I'd be enjoying it if you weren't here," he grumbles, which isn't entirely true, and she must know it, because she elbows him.

"I know you don't like me, but there's no way you don't like me _that_ much. You'd be happier alone, but not _happy_."

He's not actually convinced he'd be happier alone either, but he's not going to tell her that. It's bad enough that she can read him this well; he doesn't want to give her any more clues. "Okay, yeah, being lost in the woods sucks. But it sucks less if you don't hate being outside. That's all I'm saying."

Clarke huffs. "Are we done with _Clarke sucks as a counselor_ yet? Can we work on figuring out how to get back? You're the one who's good with the outdoors, shouldn't you have some--compass spell? Wayfinding? Isn't that what we were supposed to be learning?"

"Compass only helps if we know what direction we want to go, and I'm not good enough to know where we are relative to--anything." He scrubs his face. "But fine, yeah. We can figure this out. Do you remember the spell that we got hit with? I only got the first half."

"I think it was Eli," says Clarke, sounding thoughtful. "Mispronunciation of a wayfinding spell, but not one I knew." She does look a little sheepish. "Like I said, I don't like hiking, I don't know most of these spells. Lexa tried to teach me, but--just because we dated doesn't mean I cared."

"Yeah, same with me and Miller," he admits. His best friend and her ex are in charge of the hiking trips, with the rest counselors subbing in to support on a rotating basis. He and Clarke are fine as backup, but they're not experts in survival magic by a long shot. "I've picked up most of them well enough to recognize them when I hear them, but--"

"But you don't practice."

"No. Now, if we were in a body of water--"

"And if we were making spell components, I'd be helpful too, but we're not." She sighs. "They're bound to find us, right? I bet Miller is turning it into an exercise for the campers. They'll have us back in no time."

She sounds upbeat about it, which is the true sign of a rookie.

"You definitely jinxed us. We're going to get hexed by some well-intentioned camper."

"We are not," she says, right as Bellamy feels the tug of magic. It smacks him directly into Clarke first and then pulls both of them together, dragging them on a somewhat nauseating trip back to the rest of the group.

Bellamy's ears pop when he lands, like always, and he hears Lexa saying, "--worked this time, but you have to be careful. Improper wand movement can cause problems with a spell."

"Welcome back," Miller adds, looking them up and down. "You guys go anywhere fun?"

"Some other part of the woods," says Clarke. Her eyes flick up to Bellamy. "Is there a reason you're hugging me? Were you worried we were going to get separated by the magic?"

"It wasn't my idea," he grumbles. "I think the spell wanted to move us together." He lets go of her carefully, trying to make sure nothing else weird happened when they were moving, only to find that one of his arms doesn't come with him. No matter how he tries, he can't get the tip of his middle finger to stop touching her shoulder. 

"I'd say it did, yeah," says Miller, dry. "This is what happens when you do sloppy wandwork, kids. Bellamy and Clarke get stuck together."

"Thanks," says Bellamy. He glances at Clarke. "Can you pull away from me?" he asks. At her frown, he clarifies, "Is this just me having to touch you, or do we both have to be touching each other?"

"Oh, good question." She gives her shoulder an experimental jerk and shakes her head. "No, I can't get away from you either. Mutual."

"That's actually very impressive," Lexa tells Aden, the camper who apparently performed the spell. "I'm surprised a simple wand error was able to do so much."

"Yeah, impressive," Clarke mutters. She glances at Bellamy's finger on her shoulder. "Okay, this is really awkward, we can't walk like this. Just--" She reaches up, plucks his hand off her shoulder, and brings it down, twining their fingers together. It's absolutely the most comfortable and logical way to walk and maintain constant contact, but--they're _holding hands_. 

"Yeah, that's an improvement," he says, managing to retain something like smoothness in his voice.

"As much as this can be improved," says Clarke.

"Come on, this isn't that bad," he says. It's possible he just doesn't know how to not be an argumentative dick. "I got turned into a _rock_ once."

"You say it's not bad _now_ ," she says. "That's because neither of us has to go to the bathroom yet."

"Indra can fix it when we get back to camp." He gives her hand a squeeze. "Cheer up, Griffin. I know this is your first major hex, but you get used to it. I've had worse."

"Your pain and suffering does always make me feel better," she teases, and he has to laugh.

"Yeah, that's the spirit."

*

"I can't fix this," Indra says.

"What?" asks Bellamy, genuinely rattled. He's sort of come to believe Indra can do literally anything. She's the most badass person he's ever met. "How can you not fix it?"

"Because I'm not sure what he did. You know an improperly fixed spell is worse than no fix at all, Blake," she adds, which is true, but in no way comforting. "I'm not saying I'll never be able to fix it, but I need some time to figure it out. I'm sure we can accommodate the two of you spending the next few days together."

"The next few _days_?" asks Clarke, sounding horrified.

It's not like it sounds great to Bellamy either, but it kind of sucks how upset Clarke is by the prospect. It's awkward and weird and every part of bathroom use is going to be a nightmare, but--his first year as a counselor, Bellamy got hit with a truth curse and had to go into solitary confinement to avoid saying the wrong thing to someone. Having to be in constant physical contact with Clarke doesn't seem so bad by comparison. But this is _her_ first year, and her first curse. He can try not to take it personally.

"I hope it won't take that long," says Indra, businesslike as always. "But we should plan for the worst. Clarke, I believe you have a co-counselor?"

"Yeah, Raven Reyes."

"Then she can take your cabin, and you can sleep in Bellamy's. I'm sure Bellamy's campers will deal with it in a mature and sensible way."

Bellamy snorts. He will never stop hearing about this. When he's eighty, he's going to get a call out of nowhere, and it will be one of his campers reminding him that he _slept_ with _a girl_. 

He regains his composure to tell Indra, "I'm sure," keeping his face as straight as hers.

"Now, let's look at duties," she says, and in ten minutes, she's reassigned them such that they can spend the next seventy-two hours with each other without disrupting anyone else's lives. "Any questions?" 

Clarke glances at him. They're currently touching their bare feet on the floor; it turns out the contact has to be skin-to-skin, which is even more of a pain. But they're smart and resourceful. They can figure it out. It's not like they have much of a choice.

"I think that's about it," he says. "Keep us posted on how to fix it."

"Of course. I am sorry about this," she adds. "I know it's awkward."

"Occupational hazard," says Bellamy. "I've had worse."

Indra's smile is a little odd, and he's not sure how to parse it. "I certainly hope so."

*

"So, you're leaving me for Bellamy?" Raven asks Clarke. They're in her cabin to collect her stuff; they're done with activities for the day and the kids have some free time after dinner and before they're summoned back to their cabins, so now is the time for logistics.

"At least you got the kids in the divorce," Clarke says. 

"Yeah, that makes me feel so much better." Her eyes flick up and down over Bellamy. Clarke is using both hands to pack, so they're currently touching legs, but every time she has to go somewhere else, she grabs his hand and drags him.

He's kind of enjoying it, if he's honest.

"So, how can you not let go of each other?"

"You ever have those really strong magnets when you were a kid?" he asks. "You can get them apart but it's a huge pain, and they just snap back together? Kind of like that, but we haven't actually gotten apart yet."

"Huh," says Raven, looking interested. "So you think if we got you two apart, you wouldn't stick back together?"

"You'd have to get us apart first," says Clarke. "We've been trying."

"Put your hand on her back," Raven tells Bellamy, and he complies. Raven tugs it off with no effort, and he remembers he has to stop touching her leg first.

"That's weird," Raven observes, when he explains the issue.

"It's almost like magic," says Clarke.

Bellamy tries to get his leg off hers, but he's touching her through her tanktop, so that doesn't work either. It really is the weirdest fucking curse.

"Under the shirt okay?" he asks Clarke.

"Knock yourselves out."

"It has to be skin-to-skin," he adds, to Raven, sliding his hand under the fabric of her shirt to settle on the warm skin of her back.

"The more you explain this the less it sounds like magnets," says Raven.

"Like Clarke said, magic." He tries to pull his hand off her back and fails utterly. "Okay, try now."

Raven grabs his arm and yanks, and Bellamy puts all his effort in too, and with the both of them tugging as hard as they can, they manage to yank Clarke backwards and directly into him, and the two of them overbalance and crash onto one of the bunks.

"Good job, guys," Clarke grumbles. "That worked really well."

"Fuck you," says Bellamy. "At least I broke your fall."

There's a pause, and then she pats his arm, rolls most of the way off him, keeping a hold of his hand, using it to help him up. "That's true. Thanks. You okay?"

"Yeah. Probably get some bruises in the morning."

She tugs him over to Raven check on Raven. "You didn't hit your leg, did you?" 

"I'm fine," Raven grumbles. "That's fucking weird, you know that? Binding spells usually let you separate, it just hurts the farther apart you are."

"We can't even get stuck together right," Bellamy teases, and Clarke huffs out a small laugh.

"Overachievers, that's us." 

He's the one to tug her back to her bag, and the he shifts his hand to her shoulder while she finishes packing, helping with his free hand. It's the weirdest kind of juggling act, switching off which of them is maintaining contact depending on which of them needs to use both their hands, but it's surprisingly easy. A nudge from Clarke will get him to move, and he'll change his hold on her while she grabs more clothes.

It's lucky he can read her so well. He had no idea.

She straightens, takes one final look around her bunk to make sure she hasn't missed anything, and nods. "Okay. Let's see how bad your cabin is."

"Better than yours," he says, instantly. "You going to be okay on your own, Raven?"

The look she gives him is fond and unimpressed. "We're going to spend the entire night talking about how you guys are definitely spooning."

"We have to share a bunk and they're tiny," Clarke says. "It's spooning or nothing."

"That's not gonna stop us talking about it. And it won't stop Bellamy's kids either, so good luck with that."

"Thanks," says Bellamy, and holds the door open for Clarke, guiding her out with one hand low on her back so she can use both of hers to hold her stuff.

It's not that bad until he looks up to see Octavia is waiting for them. "So, that's true," she says.

At fifteen, Bellamy's sister is of the belief that she is too old for camp, which he has to admit is getting to be true. But she needs _something_ to do in the summer, and Indra gives Bellamy a family discount for her fees, so it's a good fit. And she secretly likes most of it. He's pretty sure she's going to be a junior counselor next year, even though he's probably not coming back.

"You thought there was a fake rumor about me and Clarke getting stuck together?" he asks. "Why would anyone make that up?"

"I figured you guys were just hooking up or something and it got weirdly distorted, like--yeah, they're attached at the lips. But this is an actual curse, huh?"

"That's still up for debate," says Clarke. "Curse, hex, jinx--Indra's still trying to figure out what it is."

"You don't really think I'd be making out with Clarke in the middle of camp, do you?" Bellamy asks his sister, unable to keep the indignation out of his voice. "Come on, give me some credit. If I was making out with Clarke I'd do it in private." That gets him a look from Clarke, and he shrugs. "Discretion. It's a thing."

"It sounded like you were making out in the woods and someone found you," Octavia explains, like _he's_ the one who's being weird about the whole thing. "What actually happened?"

"Come on, we're going to move Clarke into my bunk. We'll tell you on the way."

She definitely has a crush on Ilian in his cabin, so she follows them happily, lets Clarke fill her in on the basics--miscast wayfinding spell that got them lost in the woods, miscast spell to bring them back that stuck them together--while gently teasing him about how he's never going to get a girlfriend at this rate.

"Yeah, that's definitely my main concern right now," he says, rolling his eyes. "I know you're fifteen and, like, hormonal, but not everything is about getting laid, O. This is just bad luck. No big deal."

"Uh huh," she says. The bell rings to let the campers know they have fifteen minutes to get back to their cabins before bed check, sparing them further commentary. "Have fun trying to fit both of you in your bunk."

"Looking forward to it," he says, and holds the door open for Clarke again as they head in.

Bellamy's cabin is pretty nice, if he does say so himself. He's in charge of the oldest group of boys, aged twelve to fifteen, which is why he doesn't have a co-counselor. They're both a smaller group--only eight, instead of ten to fifteen in most cabins--and supposedly more mature, and it means he can keep theit area pretty neat and tidy, for a camp cabin.

"This is my bunk," he says, once they get to the back. It's neatly made and fairly inviting, as bunks go, but still a tiny twin with a shitty mattress and noisy springs. "We really are going to have to spoon, huh?" 

"I don't think we can get out of it." She puts her bag down and sighs. "Changing is going to be a pain too."

"We should both fit in the bathroom," he says. "I close my eyes while you get changed, you close your eyes while I get changed. Whoever's got their eyes open maintains contact." He glances at the bathroom. "You want to get it done before the campers get in?"

She exhales. "Yeah, probably." There's a pause, and then she meets his eye. "I haven't really thanked you, have I?"

"For what?" he asks, frowning.

"You're actually not being an asshole about this. I know I am."

"I've been here for six years, Clarke," he says. "Two as a junior counselor and four as a full one. And I was a camper before that. Like I said, this isn't the worst curse I've ever gotten. But I know you're new, so--"

She rolls her eyes, shoving him gently. It's ineffective, of course, because her hands get stuck on his bare arm, so all that really happens is that she pushes him an arm's length away. "Never mind. Moment over. Let's get changed before your campers get in."

It _is_ weird, despite his best efforts. Clarke changes first, and he stands pressed up against the bathroom door with his eyes closed as firmly as possibly, trying not to track her progress based on where she's touching him. She does her top first, pressing her left foot against his as he pointedly does not wonder if he'd be able to see her breasts if he opened his eyes. Then her right hand pushes under the neck of his shirt so she can press down on his shoulder, using her left hand to deal with her shorts.

"This is the worst," she grumbles.

"Do you need me to squat down or something?" 

She pauses. "That would help, yeah. Come on."

It feels like it takes a lot longer than it does, mostly because he's hyper aware of every second, but it's honestly probably no more than three minutes before Clarke says, "Okay, your turn."

There's something a little disconcerting about opening his eyes and seeing Clarke standing in front of him, ready for bed. She let her hair down out of its braid, letting it fall in soft waves over her shoulders. Her pajamas are a matched set: pale blue, with crowns, and she's just--

It's not like he'd missed that Clarke was pretty. She's always been pretty. About half of his dislike of her was a defensive, irrational ploy to avoid being into her, and he'd be lying if he said it worked.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't excited about this.

"Good?" he asks, voice a little thick. It would be so easy to lean down and kiss her.

"Yeah. Your turn."

"Do you mind if I don't bother with a shirt?" he asks, sliding his foot against hers as he tugs the shirt he's wearing off. "I've got one if you want, but it's kind of hot."

"What do you usually wear?"

"Boxers."

"Guys are so lucky," she says, making a face. "We still have to wear clothes to sleep when there are people around."

"If you want me to wear more, I will," he offers.

"No, if I have to do this I might as well at least get to check out your abs."

At least her eyes are closed, so she doesn't see him blush. He takes advantage of having both hands to get the button on his shorts undone, and pushes the shorts and his boxers off before switching their point of contact to her shoulder.

He is now completely naked in front of Clarke Griffin, and he's not going to think about it.

He grabs the new boxers and gets his feet into them, and then switches back to foot contact to pull them up. It's about as awkward as he expected, but probably easier than Clarke's one-handed method.

"Done," he says, and her eyes open and sweep over him, quick. It's not like she's never seen him in a bathing suit, which is basically the same thing, but--it still feels like a lot.

"I'm going to do that next time," she says. "The pants thing. Minimize my time one-handed."

"I'm an innovator. Ready for campers?"

"As I'll ever be." 

He takes her hand for practicality's sake, but the quick squeeze he gives it is all comfort. He wouldn't want to be a mostly-naked twenty-year-old girl in a cabin full of barely pubescent boys. Bellamy is twenty-two and pretty used to his hormones and he's still trying not to think too much about her breasts in that top. But at least he knows to be subtle about it, which is a skill most of his campers won't have learned.

All them are already back when they come out of the bathroom, and whatever conversation they were having dies immediately at the sight of the two of them. 

Bellamy moves into Clarke's side, pressing up against her so he can wrap his arm around her shoulders. A united front is important. And she does seem a little nervous.

"I know you guys all heard what's happening," he says. He glances around, spots Aden, who's looking somewhat embarrassed. "No big deal, just a spell gone awry. Happens all the time. I don't have a co-counselor and she does, so she's staying with us until we get it cleared up. So don't be weird, okay? It's already weird enough without you guys making comments." He looks down at Clarke. "Anything to add?"

"I hope you guys don't snore," she says.

"Chang does!" says one of the kids, and his bunk mate retorts, "Your mother does!" and there's a brief scuffle that doesn't rise to the level of things Bellamy has to interfere in.

"Good talk," he says instead. "We've got about an hour to lights out. And, yes, Clarke is sleeping in my bed. That's how the curse works, don't make a big deal about it."

The bed really _is_ tiny, though. It's not like they won't both fit, but they won't both fit without significant overlap.

"Did you bring a book or something?" he offers, finally.

"I did, yeah. Do you have something to do?"

He gestures to his bedside table, where _Wrath of the Tigris: Strategic Magic of Mesopotamia_ is lying with a bookmark sticking out. "I have books, yeah."

Her smile is either patronizing or fond, and he doesn't trust himself to judge which. "Just a little light summer reading, huh?"

"What's _your_ book?" he asks.

Instead of answering, she gives him a light push in the chest, which he takes to mean she wants him on the bed. He sits and then, when she prods him again, stretches out on the left side, leaving as much room as he can for her. She slots herself in next to him, sliding her leg over his so she can lean over and get her own book without breaking contact.

This is going to be an awkward night.

"I never said I was any better than you," she says, showing the cover of her own book: _Physician, Heal Thyself_. "It's for class."

"You're at Arcadia, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be a junior." She settles in against his chest, practically _snuggling_ with him. It's necessary, but still. "Why?"

He clears his throat. "I'm transferring, actually."

She cranes around to look at him. "Really?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm just surprised you didn't tell me."

"Because we're so close," he teases.

She looks down at the two of them in a pointed manner. He's got one arm wrapped around her, and their legs are still tangled. "I'd say we're pretty close right now, yeah."

"Well, maybe that's why I'm telling you," he says. "They have a good history program, so--yeah. I have transfer credits from community college, I'll be a junior too."

"Cool," she says, and sounds like she means it. "No wonder you're reading such nerdy books."

He laughs and lets himself cuddle up. It's nice. "Yeah. No wonder."

*

"So, big spoon or little spoon?" Bellamy asks. They've done the bed checks, gotten all his campers squared away, had an awkward trip to the bathroom, and now they're both staring down at his bed. It feels a little like a game of chicken, deciding which of them is going to get in first.

"Big," she says, without hesitation.

"Really?"

"You asked."

"Yeah, I just sort of figured you'd go for little. You're smaller."

"You're a guy," she shoots back. "I know how this works. It's probably better for both of us if we don't wake up with you--happy to see me."

"That's going to happen either way," he points out. They both know how dicks work.

"Yeah, but I won't be feeling it if I'm big spoon."

"True." He pulls the blanket back and lies down, and Clarke follows, sliding her arms around him and resting her face against his hair. It's too warm for this to really be that comfortable, but it's still nice. A cute girl is spooning him; he's always into that.

"This is weird, right?" she murmurs.

"You can stop saying that. It's all weird. It's not news anymore."

"Fine." She shifts a little closer, nose brushing his neck, making him shiver a little. "Goodnight, Bellamy."

"Goodnight, Clarke."

Of course, they don't actually go to _sleep_. Not right away. Bellamy is hyper aware of everything, of every slight movement he or Clarke makes, every sound from one of the sleeping campers, every creaking spring and cricket chirp.

Clarke shifts closer, and he admits, "Okay, this is notably weird."

Her snort of laughter is soft. "Is it because you're the little spoon?"

"I think I'm trying too hard to be cool." He huffs. "Can I--" He makes to roll onto his back, and Clarke lets him, curling against his chest instead. 

"Better?"

"I was trying to keep completely still. It wasn't working."

Clarke snuggles in. "You can move. I've slept with people before, Bellamy. I know the drill."

"Okay," he murmurs. He closes his eyes. "Sorry if you end up interacting with my dick."

Her laugh is soft enough he doesn't worry she'll wake anyone. It's just nice. "Go to sleep, Bellamy," and it still takes a little while longer, but he finally does.

*

"If you guys don't wake up soon, we're going to breakfast without you."

Bellamy opens his eyes, and the world comes into focus slowly. He's on his side with Clarke wrapped around him, and Ilian and Maxwell are peering at them.

"We missed the wakeup?" he asks, frowning.

"Completely," says Maxwell.

"Great. You guys can go to breakfast without us, we'll catch up. If you lose anyone on the way to the mess hall, I'm just going to say they died."

"You say that every time we go to breakfast," says Ilian.

"And it's always true." He twists around, shaking Clarke's shoulder, and feels his heart flip when she makes a protesting noise and burrows against his chest. He wouldn't have taken her for a morning person, and the confirmation is cute. And it's apparently contagious, because he _never_ oversleeps.

"Hey, wake up," he says, shaking her shoulder. "Breakfast."

Her face screws up adorably, and then she blinks awake, eyes warm as they settle on him. "Bellamy?" she asks.

"Morning. Cursed, remember?"

She shakes her head, and that seems to wake her up fully. "Maybe not anymore," she points out. "It could have just worn off. That happens sometimes."

Bellamy attempts to roll away from her, but his hand sticks to her side, and he makes a face.

"If time is going to fix it, it needs longer," he says. "Get dressed?"

She sighs. "Get dressed."

They're only a little late to breakfast, and everyone is, at least, the supportive kind of mocking. The teasing might be relentless, but Miller was keeping an eye on his kids, and everyone is picking up weird slack to accommodate the two of them not being able to be apart.

And the whole thing _is_ ridiculous. Completely and unavoidably. He can't blame them for remarking on that.

Indra divided the day between his regular duties and hers, so they're spending the morning at the lake and the afternoon in the arts and crafting cabin. Bellamy will admit to not being particularly excited for the afternoon; he's never been great with the tangible parts of magic. He likes theory, does well with wandwork and verbal spells, but if he needs a totem or a pendant or any other enchanted object, he'll just buy one. 

On the other hand, it might be interesting to see Clarke in her element, instead of just scowling at nature when they're assigned to lead hikes together. He has heard she's good at it.

First, though, they have to get through the morning at the lake.

In general, Bellamy likes being at the lake. It's one of the least magical parts of the camp, in that all the kids really do is swim around and try to drown each other, but that's kind of fun. And somehow, it makes the kids trust him more. He's sort of the jack-of-all-trades counselor, the one who isn't supposed to be The Best at anything and instead is just easy to talk to. 

And, as a bonus, he gets to hang out at the lake and teach the kids how to give themselves temporary gills. That's pretty awesome too.

Clarke doesn't come down to the lake very often, for which Bellamy is largely grateful. Her swimsuit is no more revealing than any of the other counselors', but her breasts are far and away the best in the camp, and he has to put some effort into not staring at all the pale skin that shows when she wears her bikini. Which, again, it's not _inappropriate_ , and is actually the exact same suit Luna wears, so he just feels like a creep with a crush. 

Having to stand in the bathroom with his eyes closed while she gets changed into said bikini doesn't help.

"I assume you know all the spells to avoid sunburn," she says.

"Not really. Some of us have melanin."

"You know you can still get skin cancer, right? And plenty of the kids are white, so--"

He has to smile. "I know the spells, Clarke. I won't let you get burned."

"My hero." She squeezes his hand. "Done."

When he opens his eyes, she's wearing a swimsuit he hasn't seen before, red this time, with black straps. It's got a little more coverage than the blue one, thicker straps and less cleavage, but it looks perfect on her.

She's blushing a little, so he's probably still an asshole.

"My turn?" he asks.

"Go for it."

"I never thought I'd be thinking about how easy taking off my clothes used to be. I keep wanting to tell you to just turn around."

"I kept trying to pick up my foot," says Clarke. She considers. "Do you think we can get away just washing off in the lake? Skip the showers?"

"Depends on how much you care about hygiene. I assume you want to wash your hair eventually."

"Yeah, that sounds right. I guess we'll find out."

"Showering won't be that bad," he says. "Just slide your foot under the curtain. Done," he adds, tying the drawstring on his trunks. "You can open your eyes."

She does, and fixes him with a contemplative look. "At what point is it just easier to just stop worrying about this and accept we're going to see each other naked?" 

He chokes on the air. "Uh, what?"

"I mean, we could just _shower_ ," she says. Her cheeks are turning redder, but her voice and gaze are steady. "We're adults. We've seen naked people before."

"We have," he agrees.

"Just something to think about. Can you do the sun protection spell?"

He does it on autopilot, and the two of them leave the cabin and go out to collect campers together. As has been standard since they got hit with the spell, all conversion stops at the sight of them, and then resumes on largely new topics, with a few people whispering about them when they think they can get away with it.

Bellamy would say it's absurd to act like they're dating just because they literally got stuck together, but he's still distracted wondering what Clarke meant about the inevitability of them seeing each other naked, so he's probably part of the problem.

The lake clears his head some, at least. It's almost August, but they're in the north, which means the water is warm enough without ever getting _warm_ , and jumping into it is always a good way to reset his brain. It loses some of its efficacy when Clarke is around, being distractingly attractive _and_ actually cheerful for a change. Her campers are down first this morning, and they're thrilled to have her around, so she's basically just playing with them. 

Which means he's playing with them too, because he can't leave physical contact with Clarke, so they're splashing everyone with their linked hands, and it's basically awesome.

The next group wants to practice some water spells instead, and he and Clarke sit on the dock watching them and giving feedback, their legs pressed together as the sun dries their skin, and that's almost as good.

It's impossible to ignore how easy it feels. If someone had asked him how it would be to be unable to stop touching Clarke Griffin, he probably would have said _awkward_ , at best, and unbearable at worst. The best outcome he could have predicted would be that spending all this time with her would kill his crush because he didn't think he'd actually _like_ her, but--

Really, he wants to tug her in by her hand and kiss her, and then try putting his hands _everywhere_.

And snuggle with her after, of course. He's enjoying that part too.

The second group of kids leaves and Clarke flops down on her back, basking in the sun. "See? I like outside. I just don't like the woods."

"It's not like you're ever down here either. Just on the weekends when Raven and Luna make you."

She turns her head to grin at him. "Do you want me to visit you more, Bellamy?"

"I just think you're missing out," he says, gruff. "The lake is the best part of camp."

"Really? I like s'mores."

"I like natural bodies of water," he says. "Especially freshwater. I know people are really into beaches, but--I like this."

"This is pretty great," Clarke agrees. "I could come visit more. When I'm free."

"Free from me?" he teases.

She nudges his leg. "When I don't have campers. Don't fish for compliments."

"Why not?" he asks. "I want compliments."

She turns away from him again, closing her eyes against the sun overhead. "You know, if I'd known you wanted me to come visit you, I would have."

"Really?" he asks.

"Yeah."

They're already touching, his left leg flush with her right, but her hand is just resting on the dock. There's no need for him to take it, so he does, reaching over and twining their fingers together. She stiffens for a second, but when he doesn't move his leg either, she relaxes, smiles, and squeezes his hand.

They stay like that until the next wave of campers shows up.

*

There is no good way to shower with someone else while also supervising a bunch of kids, so Bellamy and Clarke, who are responsible for bringing the last group of campers back for lunch, just hang out by the stalls listening to make sure nothing goes wrong. 

And holding hands, obviously. It's strange, how deliberate it feels now. They've been holding hands off and on for the last twenty-four hours, but--now he knows she _wants_ to be holding his hand.

And he thinks they can probably make out later. He's like ninety percent sure.

They drop the kids off at the mess hall and then go back to his cabin to get changed themselves, since they couldn't really do it in the showers, and his whole body is thrumming, unsure if this is the time, or if he's reading into things. 

And then Clarke glances around the cabin, ensures that they're alone, and tugs him down to her.

The kiss is warm and easy, right from the start. They're both still mostly naked, and being all pressed up against Clarke isn't a new thing at this point, but her hands tangling in his hair and his mouth opening under his is definitely something he's not used to yet and wants to be. His own hands settle on her waist, keeping her near.

It feels like it's only been seconds when she pulls away, and he chases her mouth, might even whine a little when he doesn't catch her.

"Bellamy," she says, voice teasing. "If we miss lunch, everyone's going to know why."

"I know." He rests his forehead on hers. "I'm going to get to see you naked, right?"

She does lean up and kiss him again, just quickly, grinning. "All you had to do was ask, yeah. Besides, I need to get changed. You can help."

"I don't really want to help you put _on_ clothes," he says, and she grins and reaches behind her to untie her bikini top, letting it fall off. "Fuck," he says, finally letting himself stare, if not touch like he wants to. "Why are we doing this before lunch?"

"Because I can't get undressed by myself." She grins. "I promise you can do whatever you want later. But for now, I need my bra."

It definitely takes them longer to get dressed working together than it did with their eyes closed, but Bellamy finds it pretty hard to mind. 

Honestly, he's feeling _great_.

*

Octavia plops herself down across from the two of them in the mess hall, looking between them critically. Bellamy really hopes it's not obvious they were late because they were fooling around in his cabin, but it's probably written all over his face. He certainly _feels_ like he's grinning like an idiot.

"So, you haven't killed my brother yet," she says to Clarke, conversational.

"It's been less than twenty-four hours," says Clarke. "How bad do you think your brother is?"

"Don't answer that, O," he says. "And she hasn't seen me try to do art yet. That's what's going to push her over the edge."

"So, this afternoon is when I murder you?" she asks.

"That's my guess, but you're the expert. I guess I'll find out if and when you kill me."

Octavia rolls her eyes. "So, you guys are cool now. Isn't it supposed to take longer to get over your issues and realize you want to be friends? It's always, like, at least three days in movies."

"As always, we're overachievers," he says. "Sorry, did you want me to get murdered? I didn't know I was letting you down."

"Come on, you can't let go of her! Shouldn't something funny be happening? Like--I don't know. You guys try to go two different directions and can't get apart and fall over?"

Bellamy glances at Clarke, sees her smiling. "Apparently we're pretty in-sync," she says. "I guess sleeping was kind of a pain."

"Going to the bathroom is really awkward."

"And changing clothes takes a while. But mostly it's fine," Clarke concludes. "Kind of fun. It's like a puzzle. How can we do all of our normal stuff without losing skin contact?"

"Yeah, when you put it like that," says Octavia, but she does sound a little bit amused. "I totally get why you guys aren't killing each other. You're the same kind of nerd."

"It's a tough job, but someone's gotta do it," Bellamy says, bright. "Might as well be us."

It's probably an unavoidable fact of the universe that as soon as you feel like a curse is going _well_ , something has to come in to remind you it's a curse, so Bellamy's not even really _surprised_ when Raven catches them after lunch.

"Hey, I think I wanna try something."

Bellamy side-eyes her. "What?"

"Breaking the curse."

"Did Indra approve this?"

"Yup. I needed campers, so she had to. Relax, it's a non-magical solution. It's not going to hurt anything."

"What is it?" asks Clarke. 

"It's gonna be fun."

"That's not an answer."

"Look, I know you're not _actually_ magnetized, but I want to see if the same principles apply."

"What principles?" asks Clarke.

Raven thinks it over and then shrugs. "I'm going to get the campers to play tug-of-war with you guys."

"Can we just stay cursed?" Bellamy asks, making a face.

"Come on, Bellamy," says Raven. "Where's your sense of scientific inquiry?"

"It doesn't extend to you tying a rope around me and letting kids yank on it," he says. But Clarke squeezes his hand, gives him half a smile.

"I know this whole stuck together thing could be worse, but if Raven can actually fix it--"

"You want to try the tug-of-war?" he asks.

She shrugs one shoulder. "Why not? What's the worst that can happen?"

*

"Tell Clarke she's a walking jinx," he tells Octavia.

In theory, he knows he's supposed to be happy. He's separated from Clarke, and has the freedom to do whatever he wants. He can go to the bathroom and attend to his own duties and use both his hands all the time. His stomach doesn't even hurt that much from all the pulling, as a bonus.

But the one thing he _can't_ do is talk to Clarke, because Raven didn't actually _fix_ them. They're still just as magnetized as they were before, and if they get within roughly fifteen feet of each other, they'll stick back together.

Everyone agrees it's a lot simpler if they just avoid that. It's much easier to schedule around two people who have no reason to interact not interacting than it is to schedule around the two of them spending every second together. Even _Bellamy_ agrees it's easier. This is definitely a good solution.

But if he can't get within fifteen feet of Clarke, he can't make out with her. And it's easier to stay _really_ far away from her, so that they don't interact even _accidentally_. He shouldn't even look at her, probably. It's by far the safest option.

It really sucks.

"You know this fixed it, right?" Octavia asks. "How is she a jinx?"

"It's not _fixed_ ," he says. "We're still magnetized. If I accidentally get too close to her, it's going to happen again. This isn't a solution."

"Well, Indra _will_ fix it. It'll just be a couple days. It's not like you guys are best friends or anything."

"Yeah," he says, and it's not really a comfort. He catches Clarke's eye across the field, where she's talking to Raven and Miller, and gives her half a smile.

She smiles back, looking about as enthusiastic as he does, and shrugs one shoulder.

"So, you're back with me for the afternoon?" Luna asks, coming up behind him and startling his attention away from Clarke. "No arts and crafting?"

"Nope," he says. "Looks like I have to stay away from the arts and crafting cabin for a while."

"Well, you never went there anyway," Luna says, pragmatic.

"Yeah," he agrees. He gives Clarke final look over his shoulder and sighs. "No big loss."

*

The next day is bad, but he's at least distracted by the fact that it's Friday, which means the campers are leaving, either just for the weekend or forever, and there are wrap-up activities and bunk cleanups and goodbyes, all of which take up a lot of brainpower. Bellamy gets hugs from about half the ones he interacted with and serious, manly handshakes from the rest, and it's all very adorable.

He and Clarke make sure to say their goodbyes on opposite sides of the parking lot, so there's no chance of them retriggering the curse. Which might not even be _active_ anymore, but it's not like they can check without risk. So they're just in limbo, and it _sucks_. This really isn't how he wants to celebrate having a new girlfriend.

Miller, being a true friend, smuggles in some beer, and the two of them get buzzed in Bellamy's empty cabin after dinner. He confesses his crush on Clarke, which had apparently been obvious, and her reciprocation, which was also obvious, but Miller didn't actually think they'd figure it out with less than twenty-four hours of being joined at the hip, so the fact that they're sort of dating now is at least a surprise.

"She said we were gonna see each other naked," Bellamy complains. "And, okay, we did, but--"

"Dude, if you're not hooking up with a guy, I don't want this much information about how naked your significant other is."

He sighs. "Fine. I'm just saying. Imagine if you finally hooked up with that guy you like in your comp sci class--"

"Monty," he supplies automatically, and then adds, "Shut the fuck up about Monty."

Bellamy ignores him. "And then you couldn't get within twenty feet of him because it would be a huge pain for everyone."

"Yeah, sucks to be you." He gives Bellamy another beer. "At least you know she likes you."

His smile is probably stupid and goofy, but he doesn't care. He pops open the beer and raises it to Miller. "Yeah. At least there's that."

Saturdays are usually pretty lazy days at camp, although the Clarke situation will undoubtedly complicate matters. A lot of the time, the counselors will pile into the few cars that they have between them and head into town, but only one of them will be able to do that. He won't mind sticking around and reading, but it's not really as appealing as getting to spend time with her. But he can go swimming. Maybe watch some TV in the staff room.

He'll have a good weekend, even without talking to Clarke.

And then he's in the shower, idly thinking about jerking off, when he suddenly finds himself tripping out of the stall and directly into her.

She's wearing a bathrobe and carrying her own toiletries, so she must have been coming to shower herself, and in retrospect it's amazing that they actually avoided accidentally getting this close to each other over the past couple days. It's not like it's a large camp; they had plenty of opportunities to not notice that they were moving towards each other. But they at least had schedules before. Left to their own devices, apparently they shower at the same time.

And they're still cursed. Hexed. Whatever.

"Fuck, I'm dripping on you," he says, because he is not actually smooth at all, and Clarke laughs and throws her arms around his neck and kisses him.

"I don't mind. Hi."

"Hi," he says. "I guess this is still happening."

"Which part, the curse or the making out?"

"Both." He nuzzles her jaw, presses his lips to her neck. "Is it weird if I missed you?"

"Not really. I missed you too You know your shower's still on, right?"

"It's not like I was planning to come out here. You dragged me."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

He laughs, catches her mouth again. "I'm not."

"No, I'm not either. But let me go so I can get this bathrobe off, okay?"

He wets his lips. "You're coming in?"

"If that's cool with you, yeah."

He doesn't entirely let her go, both because he doesn't want to and because he _can't_. But he pulls back enough that she can disrobe, and then drag him into the shower when he's too busy staring to move himself.

"Someone else might come in," she says, getting him behind the curtain. "No offense, but you're the only one I want seeing me naked."

He laughs, ducks his head for another kiss. "How is that offensive? That's probably the least offensive thing you've ever said to me."

To his surprise, she's still serious, pulling back so she can look him in the eye. "I mean it, though. I don't just want to get laid, it's not because of the curse, it's--"

"Oh," he says, unable to keep the stupid grin off his face. "Yeah. Clarke, of course, I--yeah. I was crying on Miller about how I want you to be my girlfriend last night. It's not about getting laid."

For a second, her smile is all bright relief, and then it turns teasing as she slides closer, trailing her hand up his chest. It's remarkable how coherent a conversation they're having, considering they're naked and he's hard and sex is on the table. 

"It's a little about getting laid," she says, and he grins and tugs her closer for another kiss.

"Yeah, I was hoping so."

In an ideal world, Bellamy's first time hooking up with his new girlfriend would not be in a summer camp shower, but given his options are hooking up here or not hooking up with her, he definitely feels like it's worth it. And kind of inevitable, because they're both naked and couldn't stop touching each other if they _wanted_ to.

And given the way Clarke is pressing into him, kissing him open-mouthed and desperate, she really doesn't want to.

"I think if I try to fuck you we'll bring down the showers," he murmurs, running his hands up her bare back. The showers are just a bunch of wooden stalls in a row, lacking both foundation and structural integrity, and Bellamy knows people _do_ hook up in here, because there is a lot of counselor hooking up and not a ton of privacy, but he's never been desperate enough to do it himself before.

He never had Clarke to hook up with before, though.

"Sorry, does that mean you're not fucking me? Because I was planning to get off in the shower, so if you don't do it--"

He groans and bites her shoulder. "I never said that. I just think we should wait for full-on, uh, my-dick-in-you sex until tonight, when we can do it on a bed and I'm not worrying I'm going to collapse a building if I thrust too hard. This thing doesn't seem structurally sound."

"It's really unfair you're this hot _and_ this cute," she grumbles. "I'm trying to climb you and you're talking about building standards. I never had a chance."

It's the kind of statement he's very curious about and would love to hear her expand on, but now really isn't the time. He can make her tell him all about how she has a crush on him later.

"Good," he says instead. "I can still get you off."

"That's the important thing," she says, but he's already moving his mouth down her chest, shifting his attention to her breasts. They're still about the most perfect thing in the universe, but they're even better when he's touching them, not just because gets to touch them, but because Clarke really _likes_ it. Her hands are tangled in his hair and she's moaning and gasping and his life is _amazing_ right now.

"Someone else could still show up to shower," he murmurs anyway. "You should be quiet."

"Two pairs of legs in one shower isn't exactly subtle," she says. "They'd figure it out anyway."

"We're the only two people in camp who have a plausible excuse for showering together." 

"Shut up and play with my boobs, Bellamy," she says, and he laughs and obeys.

Once he's got her whining and desperate, he asks her what she'd be doing if she was alone, and his brain derails from its original plan when she says, "Thinking about this."

At some point it will stop being surprising that his girlfriend is into him. He's just not sure when.

"Awesome," he says. "But I was thinking physically."

"Fingers," she says. "Maybe a spell if I was feeling ambitious."

He turns her around so her back is to him, nuzzles her jaw and slides his hand down her stomach between her legs. She spreads for him, getting her ass positioned right against his dick in the process, making him groan.

"I know I can do better than your fingers," he teases. "And hopefully better than a spell."

"Depends on the spell," she says, but it's lost in a moan as he starts to rub her clit, so he can't really take that too seriously.

"You're so gorgeous, you know that?" he murmurs, letting his other hand drift up to her breast to play with it again. "Fuck, Clarke. It's a good thing you don't visit me at the lake more, I might let some kid drown."

She laughs, shaky. "Wow, I can't believe your idea of dirty talk is--fuck--jokes about campers dying."

When she puts it like that he is kind of terrible at this, but he grinds his dick against her and she moans again, so he's still doing pretty well, all things considered.

"I can't believe you like me anyway."

"Your hands feel just as good as I thought, so--"

He nips her shoulder. "So I'd better plan on doing this a lot."

Her laugh is a little shaky as she gets closer to orgasm, but still bright. "Yeah, you fucking better." She whines as he speeds up, tugging his wrist. "Inside."

It's a little awkward making the angle work, but they manage. Clarke takes over on her clit so he can fuck her with three fingers, and he's glad he gets to feel it when she comes, the way she tightens around him, the way the pleasure rolls thorough her.

He's going to try to see if he can keep going, but once she's regained her breath, Clarke pulls away, pushing him up against the rough wooden wall of the shower.

"You think this can survive me blowing you?" she asks, sliding her hand down to wrap gently around his dick.

His eyes slide shut and his head thunks back against the stall. "Fuck. It fucking better."

And, thankfully, it does.

*

Indra breaks the curse on Sunday afternoon, which is a relief mostly because that means the new campers won't have to drag them apart again, and they don't have to deal with either not hanging out or accidentally-on-purpose running into each other so they'll be stuck together again. Neither of which is as good as just having her be his girlfriend, leaning against his side by the counselors' fire that night because she _wants_ to.

"You know, I figured this was gonna be one of those _familiarity breeds contempt_ things," Raven observes, watching them in the flickering light. "Like, I knew she was into you, but having to watch you piss was probably going to kill the romance."

"I closed my eyes," Clarke says, with a smile. "Also, seeing his dick was--"

"Please do not make me hear anything about Bellamy's dick," says Miller.

"Don't want to be overcome with lust?" Bellamy asks, wrapping his other arm around Miller and pressing a smacking kiss to the top of his head. "I get it. I'm taken now. You're jealous."

"I also don't want to hear about your dick," Lexa says, and Clarke inclines her head.

"I'm just saying, spending time with Bellamy really isn't that bad."

He snorts. "Wow, thanks. What a ringing endorsement."

She twines their fingers together, just because she wants to. "You're the one who told me there are much worse curses than being stuck with you. I believe you now. That was a piece of cake."

"Fuck, you're so bad at this," he says, groaning. "You're definitely going to get yourself hexed this week. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"You're so superstitious," she says, settling in closer. He kisses her hair. "It's going to be fine, Bellamy."

She gets turned into a goat on Wednesday and he resists the urge to say he told her so, but then someone turns all her bones into _rubber_ on Thursday, and he thinks he's earned a little gloating.

"I think the most amazing part is it took you three weeks to get cursed in the first place. How did this not happen earlier?"

"Maybe the universe is just really invested in cockblocking you," she says. Her bones are back to normal now, but he's still a little concerned, running his hands over her skin to make sure nothing else has gone wrong. "Maybe you're the problem."

"Uh huh. I'm not the one who keeps baiting the universe into _cursing us_."

She leans up for a kiss. "I don't mind. I can take a lot of curses if I get you."

"Seriously, you're a walking fucking jinx," he says, but he's smiling like an idiot, kissing her back warm and content. "Yeah. Me too."

Of course, because he says that, he spends two hours that night as a sea slug, but he doesn't even care.

Best summer ever.


End file.
